TITLE: "Beyond the Partnership" (1/1)
BY: Ten
E-MAIL ADDRESS: kristena@ocean.com.au

CATEGORY: V, deep friendship (almost MSR)
RATING: G
SUMMARY: "Beyond the Sea" if Mulder and Scully were no
longer partners.
TIMESPAN/SPOILER WARNING: "Beyond the Sea", "Fire",
"Fallen Angel", minor "Ice", "Pilot", "Quagmire"

DISCLAIMER: The X-Files and the characters of Mulder and
Scully belong to Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions
and Fox Broadcasting, and are used without permission. No
copyright infringement is intended, no profit will be
gained.


X-Files: "Beyond the Partnership" (1/1)
by Ten, April 1997, posted August `97


Scully entered the office and found herself wishing for
the sound of sunflower seeds crunching underfoot.

But that wasn't going to happen.

Just like she would never see her precious father again.
Both Mulder and Ahab were out of her reach. It was so
unfair... Scully forced herself to take a calming breath,
straightening her spine. If she didn't pull herself
together she was going to be a mess and her next lot of
students would start spreading rumours. She'd had enough
of rumours.

Scully sat at her desk, grateful that the other two
teachers that shared the room were out. She liked
teaching at Quantico, she was very good at it. She hadn't
lost her touch in the year that she had been Mrs Spooky.

It felt like a divorce. She missed Mulder, she even
missed the X-Files. Or at least the challenge of them.

To her surprise, he had stayed in contact with her.
Sending wacky postcards that she treasured, even making
occasional phonecalls. Full of his unique humour and
their crackling banter. She wrote letters she found
herself spending more time on than any report, and not
minding a bit. They made an agreement for him to drop in
if a case sent him this way, so they could go out for
coffee. Catch up. But he was on the road so much they
hadn't managed to get together.

Her father had been dead for five days. The funeral was
two days ago. Never again to be called Starbuck. Never to
have the chance to know if he actually was proud of her.
She wanted to phone Mulder, so much needed to hear him,
but was scared she'd choke up over the line.

Somehow he'd found out and immediately phoned her. It was
so comforting to hear his voice and his sympathy. It was
more than a case of him being a psychologist and knowing
what to say to the bereaved. He wished he could come
down, but he had a case - two kidnapped kids - that he
had to act on. He sent flowers to both her and her
mother.

In the mid-morning sunlight, Dana flipped to the back of
her planner and drew out the postcard she always carried
around. It was safer than carrying his photo. The picture
had been so much of him anyway, a psychedelic swirl like
one of his paisley ties on a bender, and the scrawl on
the back: "Not fair - Reticulans 7, me 0. But I'm not
done yet. We right fielders don't give up."

She looked at it often to keep him near, to give her a
smile.

She carefully tucked it away again. She couldn't afford
to have it propped up on her desk. Sue or Maya would
inevitably pick it up and puruse and "Ooooooh, Dana!" and
she'd never have a moment's peace. It had been bad enough
that Hester from Admin had come over to her apartment to
renew their casual friendship and seen the postcards on
the mantelpiece. Before Scully could do anything, it was
all through the staffrooms. The gossip had died down now.
She just hoped that nothing got back to Headquarters.
Mulder had never said anything to indicate it had, and
the postcards kept coming. Fortunately he never put
anything "improper" on them. She correctly guessed it was
because postcards were able to be read by anyone in the
postal system and with his paranoid nature...

Who should walk into the office then but Hester, going to
put a package on Maya's desk. She stared in surprise at
Dana. "Oh - I didn't think you'd be here..."

"I went back for the funeral. I didn't take any more time
because I needed to work..."

"No, ah - I mean, of course, your father. But haven't you
heard about your foxy penpal?"

/Oh God./ "What's wrong? What's happened to him?"

Hester stepped backwards as Scully leapt up, as if to
shake her. "Ah, er... One of the lecturers talked to a
friend at Headquarters...the news there was Mulder got
shot on a case last night. North Carolina."

"Is he okay?"

"Critical, I think - that's why I assumed you'd be
there."

/Not him too!/ Scully grabbed her phone and punched the
number in so hard it was a wonder her finger didn't go
right through. "This is Agent Dana Scully. I need to
speak to Section Chief Blevins immediately." As she was
placed on hold, she turned in anguish to Hester. "I was
his emergency contact, but I guess he removed it after
Townsend... Why didn't they let me know?!" The tears were
getting very hard to hold back.

Her gaze caught on her planner. Were postcards all she
was going to have left of him?




Scully's head was spinning, but she was here in Raleigh
Hospital. As soon as she'd gotten his condition and
hospital details, she raced out of the office to her car
and belatedly hoped Hester would do something about her
classes.

Now she was sitting and waiting. He hadn't woken up yet.
His face was too pale and sweaty and he still looked
tired even in rest.

Stable but critical.

What a mess a little object could make. The bullet had
pierced his femoral artery. He was lucky to be alive.

Could she have prevented this? It was an unproductive
question to ask. But she was here, now. Mulder's new
partner had been a mental mess, only too grateful for the
fact that Scully insisted she would stay with Mulder.
Barely a kid - Jonathon Padren - she could tell he was
out of his depth on this assignment, and he hesitatingly
asked, since she had experience with the weirder
cases...would she mind looking at the file and giving
some suggestions?

It gave her something to keep her mind on.

And she managed to read it all right; with one hand
holding Mulder's. She had not wanted their partnership
split up, but his little insubordination about Max Fenig
in Townsend, Wisconsin had caused the X-Files to be shut
down. Reassignment: Mulder back to the Violent Crimes
unit, Scully to Quantico.

"We'll lodge a protest," Scully had insisted and seen the
surprised delight in his eyes.

"You mean you want to stay on the X-Files? Put up with
me?"

"Yes." She had meant it.

Their protest was slowly going through the proper
channels, "dogpaddling against the current" as Mulder put
it. Perhaps something might be done to address it soon.
Perhaps not. Mulder received a few cases in the interim
that were weird enough to require his cracked genius.
Scully received the news that her move back to Quantico
was only temporary - they said she was too good an agent
not to have her out in the field; only this time in a
"proper" partnership. The bigwigs thought she would be
happy with this, and pointed out the opportunities for
advancement. They said they would inform her soon. She
intended to resist it. At least politely refuse.

A proper partnership. With some guy who didn't look for
aliens behind every cloud. Who didn't crunch sunflower
seeds until she wanted to scream. Who didn't spraypaint
X's on roads or gently run his hand over her neck to
check for parasites...

No. Not while this partner was alive.

"Come back, Mulder. We have a lot to do. And there's no
one I'd rather do it with." She blushed at the double
meaning. She quickly decided it was time to do her
regular check of the monitoring machines.

Half an hour later she was reingrossed in the file. This
Luther Lee Boggs was a master manipulator, and had, as
the shaken Jonathon pointed out, predicted Mulder's
shooting near a white cross. Yet even *Mulder* hadn't
believed that Boggs was a genuine psychic. A set-up,
orchestrated by -

"Scully?"

He wasn't awake, but shifting in his sleep. "Scully?" His
tone was pleading, desperate.

"I'm here." She brushed the sweat-soaked hair off his
forehead, hair that had curled in the dampness. "Right
here, Mulder. And I'm staying. Please stay with me."




Not drifting. Not spinning. Something inbetween. Drifting
would have been soothing, welcome. This was out of
control and uncomfortable. Pain. But it wasn't a frantic
spin.

He still wished it would stop.

He heard Jonathon through the haze a few times. His new
partner. Hadn't been sure whether he'd been speaking on
the dock or in the ambulance or here, which he assumed
was hospital. He could hear machines going, so it was a
fair bet. He heard Jonathon, but he wanted Scully.

She wasn't his partner any more. Yet he found himself
buying postcard equivalents of his wild ties and jotting
down quick snatches to her when on the road. He rarely
stayed in touch with old partners. Or the human race for
that matter. But now he didn't have her regular company,
he missed it.

And she wrote back. The first time it had been barely a
page. He could tell she was pleased to hear from him, but
wasn't going on to much about herself. Just thinking it
had been a courtesy, a once-off. With each successive
postcard her letters got longer and more her and more
eagerly looked forward to. He'd read her reports, but now
he was seeing Dana the Letter Writer. They were both
lonely and this filled a gap perfectly. He would put his
hotel details on the back and her reply would come by
express post in the hope it would reach him before he was
off again. It seemed impossible she could write that much
so quickly - which meant she must have them ready to send
or finish off as soon as his next one arrived. Was she
adding to each letter daily, making such an effort? Did
he mean that much to her?

He wished he hadn't changed his emergency card, but it
was necessary. With Scully no longer his partner and him
going all over the place while she was at Quantico, it
wouldn't have been fair. She wouldn't have minded if he'd
left it - at least that's what his ego told him - but now
with her father gone she had enough to deal with. He
hoped that she wouldn't find out about this little
incident until he was actually well enough and  conscious
enough to inform her himself.

Something like: "Hello sceptic. Just phoning to let you
know the Reticulans won again. But I'm gonna be okay.
Wanna talk to my doctor so he knows if he does anything
wrong, he's got you to deal with?"

At times over the last few months, he almost regretted
that jaunt to Townsend. It cost him the X-Files and
Scully. But there was a cover-up, he *had* to go! At
least he was still getting X-File-like cases; he hoped
the higherups would soon agree the division had to be
reopened. And surely there was no way they could justify
that Jonathan was a better partner than Scully. He'd
prevented the rookie from making several major mistakes.
Dana had been green, but she'd been damn good.

Now if things were going the way he thought they would
be, Jonathon would be having a hard time saddled with
this case. He hoped the kid sorted it out okay, but it
would be proof that he wasn't cut out for this type of
work.

He thought back over the last few months.

Phoebe turned up. She nearly messed him over again. He
kissed her, yes, but he thought of Scully and how he
might have a chance with her now that they weren't
partners and even if they didn't, he just knew what
disdain Scully would hold Phoebe in. That gave him the
strength to resist. Scully had saved him again, without
even being there. And it did help that a fire had broken
out in the building, just to make doubly sure he didn't
do anything stupid...

Still spin-drifting. So what if that wasn't a word. So
tired, but while his body was sleeping, the inner motion
was keeping his mind aware on some level. Waiting?
Hoping?

Then she was there. Her hand was slipping over his to
clasp and remain. That voice. The only voice he wanted to
hear on his deathbed. Which this could well be
considering he didn't know how bad he was.

"Come on, Mulder. Right fielders don't give up,
remember?"

The motion stopped. She was anchoring him. He slept.




Mulder shifted and murmured. He felt uncomfortable.
Something was on his upper lip and he reached up to brush
it off.

"Hey - leave that alone!" But the voice was more
delighted than annoyed.

The fingers of his right hand touched the oxygen cannula,
registered its significance. More awareness came to him.
The pain in his leg. The fingers of his left hand were
being held. Knowledge of who was there at his bedside
spread over him like sunshine. It hadn't been a dream. He
opened his eyes and smiled at her.

"Is it really you?"

"Yes." Scully's smile was huge, but tears were about to
fall. "You're going to be okay." She tried to cover the
depth of her emotions by going for the ice chips. He
accepted them gratefully.

"I'm sorry about your father..." he said when he could
speak again.

Scully sniffled. "I'm glad you didn't decide to join
him."

"I think he threw me back over this side. Am I going to
have a peg-leg?"

"No! Why do you look disappointed?" She couldn't help but
laugh at him.

"Nothing. Just an old wish..."

"Well, if you did get a wooden leg it might be easier to
keep up with you when you try to run off."

"That'll be quite a feat with me in DC and you at
Quantico. Been brushing up on your jogging?"

"No. I'm going to get us back on the X-Files. Otherwise
you'll run out of weird postcards and I won't hear from
you again."

"You would, Dana. Even if I had to stoop to sending
something boring and touristy. I'd just have to come up
with a caption on the back to make up for the banality on
the front." He smiled tiredly, but hopefully. "Do you
think we'll get back together?"

"I know we will."




A bit later when Mulder was asleep, the rookie came in,
shaking even more. The deadline was coming up. There were
no leads. But the killer Boggs wanted to talk to Dana.

"What?"

"I never mentioned you, I swear! But Boggs insisted he
wouldn't say anything else until I brought you along with
me. He said *Dana*. And he mentioned something else
too...um...let's see..." He nervously flicked through his
notebook.

Scully decided Jonathon must have mentioned her somewhere
in discussion and just forgotten in his panic. The man
was not psychic. "Well, all right - I will go. If I can
help in any way to find Jim Summers and Lucas Henry."
/And it could help get us back the X-Files. Together./

Jonathon found his page. "Oh yeah, that's it - he called
you Starbuck."


THE END.